


Malediction, Parts 4-5

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Season/Series 01, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-06
Updated: 2007-01-06
Packaged: 2018-12-26 18:30:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: If Brian were a vampire, Season 1 of Queer as Folk may have gone something like this...





	Malediction, Parts 4-5

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

"Every angel is terrifying."   
\- Rainer Maria Rilke  
  
 **Part Four**  
  
  
He wanted to leave. Leave for good; leave Pittsburgh, leave Michael, Gus and Lindsay, leave the loft, and leave Justin. Especially Justin, who'd told him months ago in New York that he loved him and wanted to be like him. Now Brian's plan to go to New York again, alone and permanently, on to bigger and better things and away from this crazy kid and the romantic ideas clouding his judgement, had fallen through. He blinked at the bars of blue lights on the wall in front of him, the cell still at his ear.  
  
"When I walk out that door, I don't plan on ever looking back," he'd told Justin a couple of days ago, and the kid had believed him, clutched him in a hug that made Brian feel his hand prints for hours after he'd left. He'd made Justin cry. Shit. That told him more than anything else that it was time to get the hell out, and now his plans had fallen through with a single phone call from New York. Promoting from within; some 25-year-old hotshot. Motherfuck.  
  
"Who was that?" Justin asked behind him. He felt Justin's eyes on him and realized he'd been holding the phone in his hand, staring at the wall, his whole posture tense. He turned and descended from the bedroom area, placed the cell on a table and walked over to where Justin was still marveling over New York's rental prices, listed in the online ads. He was watching Brian uncertainly, hand hovering over the wireless mouse.  
  
"Nobody," Brian said. He wrapped his arms around Justin, bending to look over his shoulder at the images on the monitor. "Just some lunatic."  
  
Justin laughed. "Well this stuff is pretty crazy too. Look at this one, do you believe this?"  
  
Brian watched the monitor absently, only half-listening to Justin's comments as he clicked from one ad to the next. He seemed cheerful and carefree, but Brian knew it was only a front put up for his benefit, Justin being brave, keeping silent. He'd been doing that a lot in recent months, not mentioning a lot of shit, not mentioning his anger and fear when he did mention things that had been happening lately.  
  
Not that it was necessary; Brian only had to focus on that corner of his mind that Justin had started to inhabit before he ran off to New York and he knew. He knew about the attacks at St. James led by one of the students there, Chris Hobbs. He could see the scene that led to Justin's two-day suspension, could almost feel the sting himself when a sudden image of Justin touching a smoldering locker had surprised him in the middle of a presentation. He never mentioned any of that to Justin either, not even when Justin's courage had taken a turn to recklessness, making him stand in front of Hobbs and announce he'd jerked the kid off, much to the delight and gleeful howls of the Liberty Avenue crowd. Brian found himself wondering if that ability to practically watch Justin no matter where he was would have faded eventually if he'd left Pittsburgh for good. He found himself wondering how often he would have done it, and realized probably more than he would like to admit, and if there would have been a sense of loss if it would have faded in time.  
  
"Brian?" Justin turned in his chair to look at him quizzically.   
  
Brian gave a start. "What?"  
  
"Everything all right?"  
  
"Why wouldn't it be?" He realized he was gripping Justin's shoulders much harder than he'd been aware of, let go and straightened up, keeping his eyes glued to the monitor and a blank expression on his face.  
  
Justin smiled, tilting his head back to lean against Brian's stomach, looking up at him. "You didn't answer my question."  
  
"And what would that have been?"  
  
"Jesus Brian, you're really out of it." Justin grinned and rose from the chair, then wrapped his arms around Brian's neck and pressed close. "Now I forgot what I was asking about too, see? Must not have been important."  
  
Brian grinned, the morose thoughts fleeting as he looked at Justin's smiling face and half-closed eyes, felt the fingers caressing the back of his neck, and the warmth of his stomach firm against him. His hands went around Justin's waist, then travelled lower, slid around the curve of his ass and pulled him tighter against his hardening cock. "If it wasn't about this, then no. It wasn't."  
  
"That's what I thought," Justin laughed. He tugged at the towel wrapped around Brian's waist until it loosened and pulled it away from Brian's body. He caught the towel in both hands, the scarlet terrycloth vivid against his pale skin and spilling over his arms as he wadded it together clumsily. Spilling red. Brian felt his heart seize and suddenly felt ice cold, his skin seeming to crawl with goosebumps.  
  
"Brian?" Justin said. He reached for Brian, letting the towel drop to pool at his feet, and Brian wrenched back, startled. "Brian. Jesus Christ. What's wrong?"  
  
Brian shook his head, realizing his heart was thudding crazily. He rubbed his eyes. Get a grip. What the fuck is the matter with you?   
  
"Nothing," he said. "It's nothing – probably overdoing the double bumps a little recently." He laughed shakily, giving Justin's arms a reassuring squeeze and pushing him back gently, suddenly not wanting to touch him. He felt his stare as he went to the coffee table and grabbed the bottle of Beam standing there. He felt a wave of exhaustion, and almost wished Justin were gone.   
  
  


*******

  
  
  
Justin was ecstatic, bouncing around him like an excited puppy when they were back at the loft, alone. "You're not leaving – I still can't believe it. Why didn't you say so? How long have you known?"  
  
"Justin," Brian chided. He pushed him back and trudged to the couch, picking up the almost-empty bottle of whiskey on the way, unscrewing it and taking a swallow. "I didn't get the job. What difference does it make?"  
  
"But you wanted it. It was all you were talking about."  
  
"Yeah. So?"  
  
Justin flopped down on the couch next to him, and he wished the kid would just shut up and stop wriggling. He was exhausted. He'd lost count of how many men he'd dragged back to the loft in the last couple of days, feeding on them and then tossing them out, only to head back out later and drag back the next one. It hadn't helped. Alcohol helped for a short while; sleep helped for a short while until it was interrupted by nightmares he couldn't remember, and then he woke up to find the alcohol-assisted numbness interrupted by the short period of sleep. Endless cycles within an endless cycle. He dragged his eyes to Justin when the kid waggled his fingers in his face.  
  
"So why didn't you use your powers of mind-control to get the job," Justin said, grinning. "I thought vampires could do that kind of thing."  
  
"Shut up. I'm not a fucking vampire, get off it."  
  
"Yeah right. You're just too hung up on your ethics and morals to get ahead with that kind of thing. I think you could make anyone do anything you wanted."  
  
"Well obviously not. You're still here."  
  
Justin laughed, making him wince when his tickling fingers poked at his ribcage. "Hard work and accomplishments – you're such a fucking martyr, Brian. Too honest for your own good. I'd make people do all kinds of stuff."  
  
"Like you don't already," Brian said. He slapped at Justin's hands and snapped at him. "Cut it the fuck out, Justin. I mean it."  
  
"You know what I think? I think you didn't even really want to leave and you're glad it fell through. I think you care about me too much to leave, Brian. I think you soo looove—"  
  
"Hey, shut the fuck up! Just shut up already."  
  
Justin shrank back at the aggressive tone, his smile fading as he stared into Brian's baleful eyes. Then he huffed and rose from the couch. Brian scrubbed at his face tiredly, letting out the breath he'd been holding. The hiss of fabric behind him told him Justin was pulling on his jacket, and he heard the snap of buttons.  
  
"Justin –"  
  
"No, it's fine. You want me to leave, I can leave. Forget it."  
  
Brian dragged himself to his feet and went to where Justin was fumbling at one of the sleeves of the jacket. Brian pulled his hand from the cuff and when he placed his hands on Justin's shoulders, Justin looked up at him, a hurt expression on his face. But he made no move to protest when Brian unfastened the buttons again, pushing the jacket off and tossing it on the couch.  
  
"No. Stay," Brian said. "Okay?"  
  
Justin hesitated, then pulled him into a hug, wrapping both arms around Brian's waist. "Brian, what is it? What's wrong? Is it really the stupid job?"  
  
"I'm just tired," Brian said and wrapped his arms around the kid. I'm scared, Justin, he thought. I don't know why but I'm so fucking scared.  
  
  


*******

  
  
  
"Do you want to come to my prom with me?"  
  
Brian froze on his way down the stairs as the unexpected question drifted down from the landing overhead and into his ears. Into his stomach, making it curl into itself with the same sense of dread he felt when he bolted awake late at night, mind whirling and trying to grasp at images that eluded his memory. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as he looked up to stare at Justin, hovering over him and gazing at his face, looking almost like an angel descending on him out of the blue of the strobe lights.  
  
"As what," Brian said, "as your chaperone?"  
  
"As my date," Justin said, a touch of "duh" in his tone and expression.  
  
"I'd love to."  
  
"Yeah?" Actually hopeful.  
  
"But my prom dress is still at the cleaners."  
  
"Oh c'mon!"  
  
"Are you out of your mind? Go ask some girl."  
  
"I don't want to ask some girl. I want to go with someone I care about; and if that happens to be a guy, who cares?"  
  
The kid just wasn't letting up. Who cares indeed. Brian almost snorted. "That's just what I need. To be at a dance in a room full of fucking eighteen-year-olds."  
  
Justin's grin was knowing and almost evil, making the vague sense of dread curl in the pit of Brian's stomach again. "I thought you liked fucking eighteen-year-olds."  
  
Brian leaned close, lips near Justin's face, where the grin was fading, anticipating the brush-off. "Go buy a corsage. For someone else."  
  
If there were more protests from the kid, Brian didn't hear them. He descended the staircase quickly, making his way to the back room and not slowing down until he got there. He strolled to the back, barely glancing at the naked and half-naked bodies, writhing together in twos or threes at various intervals against the black walls or in the corners. It was one of these groups of threes that broke apart when he walked by, one of the men catching his gaze and heading toward him slowly, bare-chested and in jeans, handsome in an unremarkable way. He drew near, eyes asking silent permission, and Brian reached out to hook his fingers through the man's belt-loops, turning him to face the wall. He reached around the man's waist and popped the buttons of his fly, hands delving in quickly to stroke his hard cock, lips hovering over the warm and slightly damp skin of his neck, anticipating. He yanked down the stranger's jeans and then undid his own, pausing only to tear open a condom and roll the thin latex over his cock.  
  
The trick gasped as he felt cold lubed fingers prodding at him and arched his back slightly. "Boy you don't waste any time," he said, chuckling softly.  
  
Brian began to push into him and the man's head fell back as he braced his hands on the wall inches in front of him. Brian put his mouth to his ear. "You won't remember this anyway, so it doesn't matter."  
  
"What?" The man tensed and his voice was almost a frightened squeak, but Brian shoved into him roughly enough to flatten him against the wall. He grasped a handful of dark hair, pulling the trick's head back with enough strength to make the man's struggles seem almost feeble in comparison.  
  
"I said you won't remember this," Brian said, and the man moaned, his movements ceasing like those of a cat grasped by the scruff of the neck as Brian's incisors pierced his throat. Warm wetness flooded his mouth and ran down his throat as he swallowed, thrusting into the trick at the same time he stroked the man's cock, keeping his grip on the trick's hair and the man's head tilted back. The warmth burned in his chest and pooled in his stomach, much like swallows of Beam he took directly from the bottle but feeling more substantial, spreading through him slowly and branching out until it pulsed in his fingers and toes. It made his cock throb and seem to expand as he felt his balls tighten, and then rushed through his stomach and back into the trick as he came. At the same time the man crushed between him and the wall was coming, moaning and jerking against Brian, almost making his mouth lose its hold on the man's neck before the heavy flow had ceased. Brian tightened his grip on the teetering body, feeling his own stomach draw together in a cramp, the warmth it contained suddenly hot and heavy as lead. He felt a rush of nausea and swallowed against it, gritting his teeth. What the fuck was that? He stepped back, spitting bitter saliva still mixed with blood on the ground and wiped his mouth. The trick was leaning against the wall, breathing in shallow pants. Brian stared at him, quickly discarding the condom and fastening his Jeans.  
  
He backed away, then turned and headed out. What was that – was the man sick? No, he thought, he was sure he wasn't, he was never wrong about that. But the immediate nausea had passed and he decided it didn't matter. He was dizzy and wanted to leave. Fuck this shit. He spotted Justin near the bar with the others, made a beeline and grabbed him by the arm, starting to drag him out, ignoring his look of surprise.  
  
"Come on," Brian snapped. Justin started to grin, then he took a closer look at Brian and stopped in his tracks.  
  
"I said: Come on!" Brian repeated.   
  
"Brian?" Michael's voice behind him. Shit. He turned to face his friend's concerned face and felt a wave of impatient anger. Always concerned, always fawning, thinking he knew Brian and having no clue. Pathetic, he thought.  
  
"Brian are you OK?"  
  
"Leave him alone," Justin said, and now he was the one pulling Brian along toward the exit, but Michael cut him off, stepping in their path, and Brian was tempted to shove him aside when he felt Michael's fingers brush his chin. Brian felt another wave of nausea as he realized the fingers were wiping at something wet, and cold.  
  
"Jesus, Brian, you're bleeding," Michael said. "Holy shit, there's blood all over your—"  
  
"Leave him the fuck alone, Michael," Justin hissed, and gave the man a hard shove, his eyes shooting daggers and at the same time full of fear. Afraid for him, Brian realized. Michael stumbled backwards a few steps, staring at Justin for several seconds before his eyes narrowed.  
  
And then Michael was shoving Justin back, screeching furiously. "Fuck you, you stupid little shit! Who the fuck do you think you are after all the trouble you've caused. You don't know shit! Go home and fuck yourself, you're nothing but—"  
  
Brian's backhanded slap hit Michael squarely on the mouth, sending him reeling backwards. He caught himself, staring at Brian wide-eyed, and put his fingers to his lips. Brian stared back, furious, only vaguely aware of Ted and Emmett rushing over to Michael's side, gaping in confusion. Justin stood at Brian's side, frozen motionless as a statue, but he recovered from the shock first.  
  
"Come on, Brian," he said and gave his sleeve a soft tug. "Let's get out of here."  
  
Justin led the him toward the exit, and from the stares and the way the crowd of men parted to make room for their passage Brian concluded their little drama had gotten more attention than he'd realized. Shit, he thought, glowering. Fuck them. Fuck them all.  
  
  
  
 **Part Five**  
  
  
Brian bolted upright in the middle of the night, eyes wide and staring, heart pounding as if it were trying to jackhammer its way through his sternum.  
  
"Fuck—" he huffed, "oh fuck, holy sh—"  
  
Lightning crashed outside the window, illuminating the loft in a flash of blue-white. He cringed as the sound brought back a fragment of the dream, a sharp crack ricochetting off naked concrete and steel; pallid cold skin and rivers of blood, running between his fingers, on his clothes and lips, dripping on the cold floor. Screaming panic. Justin. Something about Justin.  
  
"Brian?"  
  
Justin was here, he realized when the whispering voice penetrated his conciousness along with the soft rustle of sheets beside him. He felt hands slide through trickles of cold sweat on his back and stomach, and then the reassuring sleepy warmth of Justin's body curving against him.  
  
"It's just a storm," Justin mumbled. Brian heaved a sigh and settled back onto the pillows, putting a hand on the arm Justin had wrapped around his chest and the other around his back, drawing him closer. He shivered.  
  
"That weird dream again?" Justin asked.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Remember what it was this time?"  
  
Brian swallowed. "No."  
  
"Mmm." Justin kissed his chest then raised up to look at Brian's face, fingers stroking his cheek. "It's just a stupid dream. Doesn't mean anything." He yawned. "You should come to my prom with me tomorrow, it'll be fun. Get your mind off your nightmares."  
  
"Yeah for the ultimate nightmare," Brian whispered. Justin laughed softly and settled back against him, feeling hot against Brian's cold and clammy skin, warming him with an arm over his chest, a leg drawn over both of his. Brian felt the brush of eyelashes against his chest as Justin blinked, making him shiver again. Finally Justin maneuvered himself over until he lay on top of Brian, kissing his chest.  
  
"Brian, you're freaking out. Stop it." He let his lips move over Brian's face, planting soft kisses in a trail to his ear, pausing to whisper, "Fuck me, Brian. Do anything you want." He kissed his way back to Brian's lips, whispering against his open mouth. "Fuck me." Justin's tongue flickered against Brian's, then he smiled and moved lower, kissing his neck, chest and stomach, hands pressed flat against Brian's skin. Brian felt warm fingers curl around his cock, and the electrifying wetness of Justin's tongue as he flicked it around the head, snaking and teasing.   
  
Brian tensed, his hands reaching for Justin, caressing his neck and face, and moving into his hair. "Justin..."  
  
He felt his cock slide into the suctioning heat of Justin's mouth and leaned his head back, groaning, when he felt it go further, into the narrow pressure of the back of his throat, out and then back in again. Justin's curled fingers followed the up and down motions of his mouth, gliding over the slick head on the upstroke, his thumb brushing the slit. He let his other hand slide upwards, flat, fingers splayed, caressing Brian's stomach and chest almost possessively until Brian's hand moved up over his arm and their fingers twined. Brian squeezed his eyes shut, knowing he was going to come soon and at the same time not wanting to stop what Justin was doing. Just another minute, he thought. Fucking Christ...  
  
Almost at the last moment, he grabbed Justin's outstreched arm and pulled him off, dragging him upwards and then turning until Justin was underneath him. Brian kissed him, first softly and then almost aggressively, and Justin moaned as Brian sucked his tongue into his mouth. His hands moved over Justin's body, sliding and caressing, then groping and squeezing, pulling him closer and then grasping at him again because he still didn't seem close enough. Justin hooked his legs over Brians, drawing him in and pushing his hips against him as he moved and squirmed under him until they were both panting.  
  
"Wait," Brian said. He disentangled himself and reached to the console for a condom and lube, handing the foil packet to Justin. "Put it on me."  
  
Justin grinned and busied himself with the condom, flopping back down on the pillow after he'd rolled the thin latex over Brian's cock. He caught his breath when he felt the cool lube trickle down the crack of his ass, smiled at Brian as it was warmed by Brian's probing fingers. Brian kissed him, sliding a finger inside him and pushing up to stroke it against his prostate, making Justin arch his back and gasp against his open mouth. Brian took his hand away and let his slick fingers slide over Justin's cock, making his legs fall open as he moved on top of him, kissing his neck and ears.  
  
"Oh my god, Brian, that feels so good," Justin whispered, wrapping his legs around Brian's waist and pressing down, pulling Brian against him. Brian pushed forward, entering him and then pausing, kissing Justin and pressing against his body's efforts to push him back out. Brian's hands circled Justin's waist, curving his back up slightly and then he pushed all the way inside.  
  
Justin moaned as Brian fucked him and wrapped his arms around Justin's back and shoulders as he curled against Brian, forehead pressed to his chest, Brian's voice soft in his ear as he whispered Justin's name over and over. Justin was sure Brian wasn't aware he was doing that and wondered if it was still the dream affecting him. He wrapped his arms around Brian's neck, pulling him closer.  
  
"I love you, Brian," he whispered. "I love you so fucking much."  
  
He let his head fall back when he felt Brian's lips on his neck, kissing and licking, and slid his fingers up to twine in Brian's hair, his whispers pleading. "Brian..."  
  
Brian's breathing came in hushed gasps against the soft skin of Justin's neck, and when he slid his tongue along the pulsing vein, Justin arched against him, tilting his head back even further. Brian gently scraped his incisors against the throbbing skin and then bit down, breaking it and pushing through, drawing back when he felt a warm trickle flow over his lips and tasted copper on his tongue. Justin's fingers tightened in his hair and his moans deepened as he felt Brian swallow, then the slightly stinging draw along his neck as Brian's mouth sucked and pulled for more, moving against him faster and thrusting harder into him.  
  
Brian drew back after a while, careful not to go very far, stopping long before he brought Justin anywhere near the edge of unconciousness. He felt Justin's hands on his face and leaned up to look down at him as Justin's fingers brushed against his mouth and chin, wiping away droplets of sweat and blood. Brian lowered himself and kissed him, hands sliding down Justin's sides and around his hips, gripping him tightly as he pushed into him. He felt Justin's hard cock against his stomach, the head dragging along his tense muscles as he moved against him. Brian wrapped one hand around it, feeling Justin's body twitch and then shudder as he came almost immediately, gasping and moaning Brian's name against his mouth. Brian felt himself start to come as well, groaning, his face pressed against Justin's shoulder, stopping himself just before he bit down again. He collapsed against Justin and they pressed together, gasping for breath, Brian's hands around Justin's head, fingers wound around strands of his hair. He raised himself up so as not to crush Justin under him, leaning their foreheads together.  
  
"You okay?" he whispered.  
  
Justin smiled. "Sure. More than okay."  
  
"I probably shouldn't have done that."  
  
"What? I asked you to."  
  
"No, I mean..." Brian grinned and touched the mark on Justin's throat. "That word you don't like."  
  
"Brian..." Justin rolled his eyes. He looked back at Brian, his fingertips tracing his face, wiping away beads of perspiration. "Cut it out." He grinned deviously. "Or I'll use the word you don't like, because that's why I asked you to do that, too."  
  
"Don't go to the prom tomorrow," Brian said suddenly, then bit his lip.  
  
"Why? I have to, I promised Daphne. Come with me, Brian...please? It'd be totally cool."  
  
"A threesome with your hag. I don't think so."  
  
"I don't think she'd mind that."  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
Justin laughed.  
  
  


*******

  
  
  
But Brian had gone. Of course he'd gone. He'd made up his mind to go the minute he saw the fringed scarf at the clothing boutique with Linds, white, elegant and silky, too perfect to pass up. He arrived late and the prom was well underway by the time he got there, everything about it just as boring and tacky as he'd anticipated. Everything except Justin. Brian had spun him around the dancefloor to a corny old song Brian knew had blared from the speakers of every prom since its recording, but it didn't matter. Justin was delirious with joy, smiling and virtually shining, beaming up at him. Brian had known he'd be pleased, but it came as a bit of a shock to him that he'd been the cause of so much exultation. Even more so when he found himself grinning back at Justin, caught up in his happiness, kissing him in front of everyone because nothing else mattered.  
  
"It's the best night of my life," Justin said later in the parking garage, smiling and laughing.  
  
"Even if it was ridiculously romantic," Brian said. It had been, he thought, and it still was – both of those things, though he didn't say so. He kissed Justin, whispering, "Later."  
  
"Later," Justin answered. He started walking away, the silk scarf Brian had draped around his shoulders grasped in both hands, then turned back again, laughing – elated, triumpant and a little disbelieving they'd actually done this, a final "fuck you" to the St. James Academy. Brian smiled, watching him retreat in the rear-view mirror of the jeep as he fumbled with his keys. He saw Justin lift the scarf over his head with both hands. A second later he was startled by the tall figure stepping into his line of vision, seeming to come out of nowhere, holding something he was raising over his head. Brian was out of the jeep and running toward Justin before he could think, and saw Justin turn, still smiling, when Brian screamed his name. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, surreal, and Brian found himself thinking how endlessly long the distance between him and Justin seemed – all of a sudden it seemed like miles. The figure looked back, startled by Brian's fast approach, then turned to Justin and swung. Brian heard the echoing crack and watched Justin crumple to the pavement. He thought how everything seemed to be taking so fucking long, and yet at the same time he thought it couldn't be happening at all.  
  
The man he'd seen swing the bat turned and Brian saw he wasn't a man at all, it was that kid, Hobbs, the one Justin had outed on Liberty Avenue as they were about to go into Babylon. Brian wrenched the bat out of his grasp and swung blindly, not even hearing the sound as it connected with Hobbs' shins and the kid's agonized scream as he fell. Brian hesitated a moment, tempted to smash it down again but he let it clatter to the ground and rushed to where Justin lay, eerily still.  
  
"No, no, no..." he muttered, grabbing Justin by the shoulders and turning him on his back. Streaks of blood on his face glistened red-black in the dim light, and when his head fell limply against Brian, he felt it splash over his hands and soak his clothing, warm and then heavy and cold. Brian realized he was screaming something, his hands wiping at the blood on Justin's face. There was no reaction aside from shallow breaths gurgling in his throat, the space of time between each one expanding, and Brian felt the warm wetness seep between his fingers and drip onto the concrete beneath them. Not him, he thought, and his heart seemed to detach itself from his body and plummet down an endless icy cold chasm. Please God, he thought, not him; I'd do anything.   
  
Brian gritted his teeth and carefully tilted Justin's chin back, his fingertips tracing along his neck. Justin's pulse was weak as a thread and extremely fast. Brian closed his eyes, put his teeth there and bit down, feeling the skin give way after a short resistance. He felt the warm liquid seep into his mouth, but it wasn't the fast rush he was used to and he found he had to put in some effort while Justin's heart flailed, trying to make up in speed what it couldn't provide in pressure. Minutes seemed to stretch into hours and Brian feared it was taking much too long.  
  
Finally he drew back and pulled Justin's face forward to lie against his chest, and he saw his skin had gone from just pale to a whitish-grey color. For a panicked moment he was sure it was too late or that he'd gone too far, but then he heard Justin draw a breath, shallow, slow and rasping, but there. Brian's fingers tore at the bracelet made of strung cowrie shells around his wrist until he'd tugged it down enough to get at the pulse underneath. He felt a trickle and then a steady flow as he tore at the skin, and raised his hand to Justin's face, letting the heavy drops splash against his lips, where they seeped into his mouth and spilled sideways to run over his face, mingling with the streaks already drying there.  
  
"Justin," Brian hissed, giving him a small shake. "Justin, come on...."  
  
He felt the body in his arms jerk as if he'd startled him, and then Justin's nostrils flared as he drew a deeper breath and then another, lips parting. Brian pressed his wrist against Justin's mouth and heard him moan as if he were in pain, but he was swallowing. Brian almost sobbed with relief and Justin's eyes flashed open briefly, pupils huge and unfocused, but Brian felt him press his lips against the open wound and then Justin's fingers as they wrapped around his elbow softly. He pressed his forehead to Justin's, whispering to him, and then suddenly he heard shrill screams, the sound amplified as it bounced off the concrete walls.   
  
He looked up, startled, to see Daphne standing several yards away, staring at them, eyes wide and horrified. She caught Brian's gaze and clamped both hands over her mouth and the screeching faded to dull moans as she squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again to stare.  
  
"Daphne," Brian barked. "Call an ambulance – go."  
  
She seemed rooted to the spot, unmoving, but when Brian shouted at her again she whirled and ran toward the exit, the clatter of her footsteps receeding in the direction of the ballroom. The gentle suctioning pull of Justin's mouth had ceased and Brian took his wrist away, tugging the bracelet back down to cover the gash. Justin was moaning softly but his breathing was more regular, and Brian cradled him, face pressed against his cold skin, rocking him like a child and whispering to him. He wasn't aware of anything after that until he opened his eyes to see white-clad legs stop in front of them, and felt hands moving quickly but gently, loosening his grasp to take Justin away from him.  
  
  


*******

  
  
  
Brian sat, staring dully at the linoleum floor until he heard the soft squeak of shoes and felt Michael's hand on his shoulder. He felt his friend's arm go around him as he settled in the chair beside Brian, not speaking. Brian barely remembered calling him on his cell after they'd rushed Justin's gurney out of the ambulance and through the doors of the bay.  
  
"Michael," he'd said, his voice slurred, "it's Justin. I'm at the hospital. I did something terrible, Michael, I did something terrible to Justin."  
  
He knew Michael was already on his way there, at the same time he was listening to his friend's urgent questions and trying to get his thoughts straight enough to formulate answers that made some kind of sense.  
  
"It's not your fault," Michael was saying now, squeezing his hand, "it'll be alright – he'll be alright, you'll see."  
  
Brian blinked, feeling a tear cascade down his blood-smeared face and only dimly heard Michael's quiet reassurances. He knew better, it was his fault. He knew Justin would live, but that was because he couldn't die, not anymore. He wondered what Justin would think when he found that out, if one day he'd blame Brian and hate him for giving him what he'd asked for after all. Brian closed his eyes, thinking of a time when things really had been alright, when Justin's presence in his life had been just hours old, when he'd barely remembered the kid's name. You should have run, you silly little twat, Brian thought. Why didn't you run like I thought you would?  
  
His mind flashed on Justin's face that night, smiling and glowing, cocky, the way he'd grinned and set his jaw after he'd defied Michael and told him, "I'm going with him!"  
  
Brian caught Michael's confused glance and realized he was smiling. You'd better, he thought, you intrepid little fucker...you'd better.  



End file.
